Page 33 of Pretend for Me

I raise a brow in question, waiting for her response.

She shakes her head, her eyes tracking down my face to catch at my lips. “You’re pretty damn good with him for a guy who probably barks out orders to his scared minions all day.”

Smirking, I say, “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t go around ruining my supervillain reputation. I need to keep those minions on their toes.”

She places her index and thumb on the corner of her smiling lips and pretends to zip them. “Your secret is safe with me, Lex.”

“Lex?”

Piper gives me a derisive gasp. “Yes, Lex. As inLex Luther, the wealthy archenemy of Superman?” When I pretend ignorance, loving the way she gets worked up, she continues with a huff, “Jesus, Menon, I truly expected better from the future ruler of the world. You’ve disappointed me.”

I smile. “Have I?”

“Yes.” She nods, gesturing to the large modern chandelier in my foyer. “This massive house with its glass walls, decorative infinity pools, and sprawling terraces . . .” Her eyes gleam withmischief, a playful glint I’ve come to recognize. “The way you just interacted with my sweet Rome, and that . . .” her eyes drift toward my left cheek before coming back to my lips, “that dimple of yours you keep so well hidden . . .” Her voice drops to a whisper, sending a chill down my spine. “It’s all so very disappointing.”

I take a step toward her. Why? I couldn’t tell you.

Hypnotism, maybe?

Magnetism, perhaps.

Optimism, altruism, botulism? Sure, add those in, too.

My voice is low, challenging, even to my own ears. “Is that so, Peter?”

“Yes,” she murmurs almost inaudibly. I watch her throat work on a swallow, her eyes flaring as I close the rest of the distance between us so my face hovers inches above hers. “All so underwhelming, really.”

“You’ve noticed my dimple, have you?”

She shakes her head, her long hair swishing over the gentle slope of her breasts. And I can bet every fucking dollar in my bank account that her nipples are stiffened peaks behind that curtain of hair. “It’s certainly very unremarkable.” Her eyes lock on my lips. “Unimpressive.” She licks her lips. “Un . . . un?—”

“Peter?” I ask, my senses filling with her citrus scent.

“Yes,” she responds, her chest falling on an exhale.

“Are your rabbits fighting or fucking?”

“Yes,” she croons. “Fucking.”

My lips twitch, knowing she hasn’t registered a thing I’ve said. “Piper?”

“Yes.”

“I’m asking because they look like they’re about to rip each other’s throats out.”

Her brows furrow, and for a second, it’s as if she has no idea where she is. Suddenly, she pulls away with a yelp and fallsto the floor in front of the cage. “Oh my God!” She looks up at me, her face pale. “Dev! Natalie Nutbottom is trying to kill Kevin!”

Not a moment later, she opens the cage and manages to pry the weaker rabbit out, cooing at him . . . or her, I can’t tell. She’s just about to lower the cage door when the other one hops out, and before either of us can react, it’s tearing through my house with all three of us—me, Piper, and Rome—hot on its tail. Yes, pun fucking intended!

And wouldn’t you know it, Piper insists I call the blasted creature by its full name, but not too loudly because it may get scared. Which is why, a few minutes later, I’m sprinting around my house, whisper-yelling, “Natalie Nutbottom,” like a certified lunatic.

My fingers are pressed under my brows, my elbows digging into my thighs as I try to even out my breaths.

What a fucking disaster, and that’s not counting the five-thousand-dollar table lamp shattered on my bedroom floor, the two-thousand-dollar vase that’s now cracked on my kitchen countertop, or the Hermes blanket adorned with rabbit shit.

No, the disaster I’m referring to comes with the name of Piper Parker. A calamity I seem to both be drawn to and afraid I’ll drown in.

She’s been in my house barely an hour and already, it feels like a tornado has swept through it, leaving both destruction and a newfound dread in its wake.

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